Revolution is Hell
by AlfieJ
Summary: American Revolution from the eyes of both parties. Sorry about the length, one shot. Soft yaoi


The sun broke over the mountains, washing the emerald green valley surrounding Arthur's home in brilliant, vibrant sunlight. However, the Englishman turned his head away and buried it in his arms, still crossed on the desk from where he had slumped asleep the previous night. Arthur's usual shining green eyes were dull and darker in colour with garish red lines on the whites of them from lack of sleep. He had barely slept through worry, but what else could he do? He was bankrupt after protecting his colonies in North America, and he had no money. Arthur knew that the increase wouldn't do much for his and Alfred's relations but they had been frosty for a while...He took a deep breath and pulled out a clean piece of paper, dipped the tip of his quill into the pitch black ink and pressed it to the paper as he began to scribble. Tax increase...Well, it was only right that be paid back for all of the hard work he put into fighting back Francis right? And as for the merchants price rise...Well, that wasn't his problem! He had to look out for himself first, not his American colonies. The man nodded after reassuring himself and finished off the letter, scrawled his signature at the bottom and then dripped the red wax onto the paper, pressed his ring onto it to leave his mark before he then called in the courier.  
"This is to go to America" he said, hiding the shakiness in his voice, "as soon as possible...It is of vital importance". The boy nodded and took the letter, dropped it into his leather satchel and then hurried out of Arthur's study. As soon as he was alone again, the Brit slumped back onto the desk and closed his eyes. Had he just made a grave mistake? Every day his son grew more reckless, every time they met he would blast off about ridiculous plans he had. And he was certainly strong minded...The hope that Alfred would roll over and play ball was growing ever smaller within Arthur...Until he knew, deep down, there would be hostilities. Yet he did nothing to withdraw the letter...Because he still hoped Alfred would break first.

"An urgent message for you Sir, from England".  
The American grinned and took the letter with haste, sliding happily into one of the huge armchairs in his home. He was always pleased to hear from Arthur! So far and few were the letters he wrote.

_Dear Alfred__Dear__ To America,  
I am writing not for social reasons but for other more delicate matters __although I do wonder how you are__. Due to lack of resources mostly drained by several wars __we__ I have fought, I have had to raise the tax on imports and exports out of __your country __my colonies underneath your guidance. The highest increase is on tea, I'm afraid to say it's a %15 percent rise...__I'm sorry Alfred__I'm sorry America__ Sorry. I meant to tell you earlier, __but I couldn't find the words __but I had more important matters to attend to. I hope you are not too __hurt__upset__ angry that I have just told you now. I know that--_

Alfred's reading was interrupted by a loud banging and he crumpled the letter in his fist. "Enter" he said darkly, glaring at the floor.  
"Sir! England has been hiding a tax increase on exports! The colony leaders have just discovered that it's been going on for months! What do we do!?".  
Months? Months and Arthur had only just told him? More 'important' things to do!? He flicked his head to make the fringe move from over his icy blue eyes and strode over to the boy. "Where is the latest shipment of tea?" he asked.  
"Boston, Sir. We're holding three ships there I believe, with a total of 2,000 chests full".  
"Then we're going to Boston".  
"What for Sir?".  
"A Tea Party".

"WHAT!?" he exploded, leaping up from his chair and glaring at the messenger boy, "HE DID WHAT!?".  
"600,000 pounds worth of t-tea s-sir" the boy stuttered, "he emptied-d it into B-B-Boston Harbour...What should we d-do? It can't go unpunished...".  
Arthur narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Shut down Boston Harbour" he snapped. "Let nothing and no-one trade there until the East India Trading Company have been paid back in FULL understand? And if that doesn't work...Then...Then send out our armies. We can't let America slide from our grasp! Alfred WILL obey me".  
And he had to do just that, sail over to his son's country, backed up his finest men. He knew that they wouldn't be expected, he knew that they wouldn't be able to defend themselves...And Alfred would be informed immediately, damaging the little relationship they had left...but he had to prove to those American's that Britain was still Great! Their crimes could not go unpunished! They would massacre one colony, and the others would fall into line and follow suit. Simple. As the ships touched the sea bed and his eyes met with the confused faces of the inhabitants of Boston, Arthur tightened his hand over the handle of his sword. "CHARGE!".

"How many dead?".  
"Most of the men Sir, I'd say a thousand...Women and children, too, although not so many of them...Arthur must have some compassion".  
"DO NOT USE THAT NAME IN MY PRESENSE!" Alfred suddenly exploded, snatching the statistics parchment from his messenger's hands and tearing it up. "I need the governors of the thirteen states in here. Now" he said coldly, turning around and facing the window.  
"Sir, that may take a while...You see there's—".  
"DON'T STAND THERE TALKING ABOUT IT!" he exploded, tears welling in his eyes, "JUST GO!".  
The boy hurried out and Alfred slipped to his knees, salty tears hitting the floor and darkening the pale flagstones beneath him. England had attacked him...With no warning, with no declaration of war—He wasn't going to have it! HE WASN'T GOING TO BE ORDERED AROUND OR MANIPULATED! He clenched his fists and pushed himself up from the floor as he wiped the angry tears from his eyes. Perhaps the time had come...Perhaps. He couldn't decide until the other governors agreed, but if they did? Then things were going to get a whole lot worse...Because he knew Arthur wouldn't let go without a fight...And one of them would perish.  
"And basically that's what happened...Which is why I need you to prepare a ship, and a crew, to leave port as soon as possible".  
"But Sir, the repercussions--".  
"Are mine to bear. Go on with you; take the rest of the day off when you're done". He dismissed the boy and looked back out of his window. It had been decided, majority vote. The thirteen States had United to become the United States of America...He was America, and it was his duty to inform Arthur of the news, take the Declaration of Independence to him to sign...He only prayed that the smaller nation would let him go.

"Arthur, I've come to...Tell you, ask you...Show you? No, tell you. Tell you" he muttered to himself. The man was pacing so much outside of the room that soon enough there would be a trench bored into the floor...  
"Alfred?".  
He turned around and met his father's eyes before he cast them away. "England...".  
"You...What are you doing here? Wow, you've certainly grown since we last met...I...Come into my office". With a confused look on his face, Arthur opened the huge mahogany doors to his study and let his son in before he followed, closing the door behind him. Neither of them said a word until Arthur was seated. "Please, sit down Alfred. Can I get you—".  
"No".  
The Brit shocked back a touch. He had brought America up better than that! "It's impolite to interrupt, Alfred. Have you forgotten that?".  
"It's also impolite to attack me without warning" Alfred growled in response, not taking up the offer of the seat.  
Arthur sighed and stood up. He knew this was going to happen...Still, at least there had been no counter attack.. "Look, Alfred, I...I had to! You destroyed all of that TEA! What was I supposed to do huh?".  
The larger man's jaw clenched and his fists tightened. "This is about the freakin' tea!? You raised taxes!".  
"I protected you from France".  
"No, you protected yourself from him".  
"YOU WOULDN'T BE HERE IF IT WASN'T FOR ME!".  
"EXACTLY!" Alfred finally exploded, slamming his hand down on the desk. "I WOULDN'T BE HERE! I WOULDN'T BE SHOUTING I WOULDN'T—". He took a deep breath and bought out the parchment, threw it on the desk in front of Arthur. "I wouldn't be giving you this".  
Arthur's face retorted in confusion, seeing the signatures of all of the colony leaders. "Alfred..." he whispered, as his eyes scanned over the page...

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen United States of America

All people naturally and equally have certain basic rights which come from God, including Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. The most important function of government is to protect these rights. Government has to have the consent of the people being governed and those people have the right to set up their government in whatever form they think will best protect their rights. Arthur Kirkland has violated his sworn promise to protect the people of these United States. It is America's soul belief that he is a scoundrel and a tyrant, and therefore must not be consorted with. Due to the many crimes against my nation, including attacks, seizing property, taxing, and exploiting our fellow Americans; I, Alfred now state that I am an Independent Country.

Alfred – America.

There was more, listing everything he had ever done wrong to America...But what about everything he had done RIGHT!? ALL HE HAD DONE FOR HIM! Without saying a word the smaller man stood up, the declaration crumpled in his hand and slowly moved over to the American who had his eyes cast away. "Too ashamed to look at me" Arthur whispered, before he lifted his hand and brought it sharply, quickly down on the other man's cheek, causing his son to topple. The Brit then moved over to the fire and dropped the manuscript into the dancing flames, turning it into ash.  
Alfred stared in shock as the flames engulfed the parchment and his other cheek went red with anger, the other already crimson from Arthur's slap. "WHAT THE HELL YOU JERK!" he exploded, shooting up. Alfred tackled his father figure to the floor and pinned him down. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?".  
"GET OFF OF ME YOU BASTARD!" England demanded, squirming, "GET OFF ME! I ORDER YOU TO GET OFF!".  
Alfred's eyes narrowed and he stood up. "You can't tell me what to do anymore, Arthur" he snapped, adjusting his waistcoat. He changed his mind altogether and took the waistcoat off, threw it over the back of the chair. It was England who wanted him to dress smart, England who wanted him to behave...England who always held him back! The American turned to leave, one cheek still throbbing.  
"Alfred, Alfred don't go!".  
He ignored England and opened the door.  
"Bloody hell boy! Get over here now!".  
"Boy?" he whispered, clenching his fists, "BOY!? CAN YOU NOT READ ARTHUR!? JUST BECAUE YOU BURNED IT DOESN'T MEAN IT MAKES IT GO AWAY! I AM NOT YOUR BOY ANYMORE!". Tears dribbled down from Alfred's eyes and he wiped them away.  
"I won't let you" Arthur whispered, slowly approaching America, "I won't let you separate from me...You can't, understand? No, NO!".  
Alfred narrowed his eyes and pulled out another parchment. "Then you'll be needing this" he snapped, dropping it on the floor, "or are you just going to burn that too?".  
The Brit unrolled the parchment, his eyes widening when he read the title.

A Declaration of War against England by America

"War?".  
"The War of Independence" Alfred muttered, "if you won't let me go...Then I'll fight you until you do. I'll fight until...Until death if necessary.".  
"Don't...Don't do this! Don't do this, Alfred!" Arthur begged, clutching the younger man's arm, "please, please don't do this! I'm sorry alright, I'm...I'm sorry! Don't leave me...".  
The American looked down at his begging mentor and suddenly hugged him, hugged him so tightly his arms began to hurt...And he felt the Englishman hugging him back.  
"I have to" Alfred whispered, his tears dripping into the Brit's hair, "I have to do this...Because if I don't get out now I never will".  
"Is that so bad?" came a soft reply, "to be with me forever?". The American moved back, looking into Arthur's eyes. He sounded so sincere..."Arthur, I—".  
"Shhh Alfred" the smaller nation replied, "shh...". Arthur put his finger to the American's lips before he replaced it with his own lips, softly kissing the man he hated as tears streamed from his eyes...But he loved him so desperately, too.  
The American pushed forwards slightly, pressing his lips back to Arthur's as their embrace deepened...Before he turned his away in shame, shaking it. "Don't do this to me" he whispered, "don't make it any harder than it already is".  
"It doesn't have to be hard" Arthur breathed, touching the man's shoulder, "you can just forget anything ever happened...Stay mine".  
"Goodbye" Alfred choked suddenly, before he practically sprinted away the man he once called father, the doors softly clicking shut behind him.  
England dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead into the carpet as his hands curled beside him. "Alfred" he whispered, tears soaking into the floor, "what have you done...What have you done".

"How many men do we have stationed at the ports? That's Art...That's England's strong point. His navy is unbeatable by ours, but his land troops...That's where we'll attack".  
"65% of our men are stationed around the ports, Sir. The other's are in the towns outside of those, waiting to back up the troops when England lands. We'll be ready for him".  
"Good, good...".  
"Erm...Sir" whispered the same boy who had watched the American struggling with this since the start of the war, "we are still outnumbered...It's three English to one American".  
"Do not fret, I'm seeking help from someone" he replied distantly, as he looked over the landscape of his home, "he should be arriving soon".  
"Sir! Francis Bonnefoy to see you!".  
"Thank you, send him in".  
"You're...You're asking France for help?" the boy breathed in disbelief, "but Sir, you can't!".  
"I can. And I will. You're dismissed until I need you again. Please leave us alone".  
The boy hurried away and Alfred showed Francis in, closed the doors behind the man. "Drink, France?".  
"Non merci L'Amérique" replied the Frenchman, seating himself in one of the squashy armchairs. "So, you want military support, oui oui?" he asked, crossing his legs, "I'm sure we can come to a...How to call it...hmm, arrangement? After all, it would be a pleasure to show that British swine zat we French are not defeated so easily".  
"I'll give you $10 a man" America replied, straight down to business, "that's about 20Francs. 500 men is 10,000 francs".  
"10,000Francs...Hmm, what's our strategy?".

"My boots" he said, staring straight ahead as someone put them on for him, "and my jacket...No, waistcoat first".  
"Yes Sir".  
"Are the boats ready?".  
"Yes Sir, our men are boarded. Despite France joining the revolution we still outnumber their troops, should be a massacre".  
"A massacre" he repeated softly, thinking. "Do you think that America will be stupid enough to go into battle?".  
"In my opinion? Oh, erm...I do not know, Sir. I doubt he would let his troops go without following them though, he doesn't have generals like us".  
"In that case get my rifle, and bayonet it too".  
"You're going to fight Sir?".  
"Of course...And I'll run through that American bastard myself" he added, although he knew his heart wasn't in what he said...He just didn't want Alfred to get hurt. Bloody child, so naive.

It was another miserable, rainy day on the frontlines and both armies were facing each other. One in royal blue, the other in blood red. The two leaders stood, facing one another.  
"Do you surrender, Alfred?" asked the smaller of the two, his face bloodied and muddied from battle.  
"Never Arthur" came a breathed reply.  
The Brit narrowed his eyes and raised his rifle, pointed it at the American. "You can't win" he whispered, "don't make me do this".  
"Arthur, I--".

Suddenly there was a gunshot. The sound echoed across the landscape, thundering through the troops ears. Arthur's eyes were wide to match his former sons as they stared at each other. Neither of them had fired the shot...  
"Alfred" Arthur whispered softly, "y-your lip".  
The American slowly touched his fingers to his lips and then looked at them. "Blood" he whispered, before he fell backwards into the dirt.  
"ALFRED!". England dropped his weapon to the floor and skidded to the American's side, lifted his head out of the mud and held it in his lap. "Alfred, Alfred! You hear me?" he whispered, softly tapping the men's face, "hey, don't you close your eyes you great oaf, don't you dare!".  
Alfred coughed, a little of his blood spattering on Arthur's uniform and he clenched his teeth. "It...It hurts" he whispered, sliding his hand to his abdomen where the bullet had entered his body.  
"Shh, shh now" Arthur soothed him, tears welling as he saw Alfred squirming with pain. He gingerly lifted Alfred's jacket and saw the wound, choking as his heart rose into his throat. "It's not so bad" he lied, pressing his forehead down onto Alfred's, "it's not so bad...".  
"Liar!" the American gasped, before he screamed out in pain. "Death...Death freakin' hurts!" He managed to joke before he spluttered and gasped for breaths again, digging his hand into the ground.  
"Hey, enough of that you" Arthur whispered, "you're not going to die, ya hear, you're not going to die...". He didn't know where it came from, adrenaline or worry or grief but he managed to pick up America and just about carry him over to the American and French troops before he collapsed onto his knees, breathing hard. "Take him" he breathed, gasping for breaths, "and go back to your homes...". Arthur stood up, leaving Alfred on the floor in agony before some of his men scooped him up. "I s-surrender...I surrender". The Brit turned back to his troops who were standing open mouthed in shock.  
"But SIR!" one of his generals protested, shoving forwards, "we were going to WIN! You could have finished off that bastard!".  
"It was you, wasn't it" Arthur whispered, staring at the floor, "you fired...Without my order. You shot him".  
"Well...I...I did, yes...But-But it was for our countries good, Sir!".  
England closed his eyes and tried to keep a hold of his temper. "You will be shot at dawn" he hissed, picking his rifle back up, "for disobeying my orders. The rest of you, get back to camp. We're moving out tomorrow".

"America?" he whispered, poking his head around the door. Arthur bit his lip, turning his head away at the sight of his son. He was badly bruised, looked like he had just gone up against a buffalo. Then again, he threw those around for sport when he was just a little boy. England gently placed the little bouquet of English wildflowers by the side of America's bed, though they were dwarfed by other gifts. From Japan a neatly tied box of sushi, France had brought some fine chocolate from Switzerland and a bottle of wine...Spain a box of tomatoes from him and Italy..."Maybe I should have brought him scones" the man muttered, as he slid into the stiff chair. "Or a cushion" he said, chuckling a little. The door shut in the wind from the open window and America groaned, stirring a little in sleep. "Shh" Arthur whispered, quickly reaching over and closing the window before he gently held the younger nations hand in his own, "shh now". Two weeks...Two whole weeks since he had surrendered and Alfred hadn't awoken yet. Everyone was growing more and more worried, but nothing they felt could compare to how worried he was. "You just wake up in your own time" he whispered, "but make sure you wake up...Moron". He chuckled before he dropped his head onto the pillow next to Alfred and slowly let his eyes close...Just for five minutes.

"Arthur? Hey...Arthur, wake up you" he whispered, poking the Englishman's hair.  
The Brit groaned and swatted at Alfred's hand before he caught it and nuzzled his forehead into it. "Mmmm, soft...".  
"Thanks for the compliment" America chuckled, as Arthur suddenly shot up. "I think you should stick to red...Suits you" he teased, as Arthur flared up with blush.  
"Ahh! Shut up you!" he gasped, covering his cheeks with his hands, "just woken up and you're already teasing me!".  
"Sorry" Alfred replied, although he was still grinning, "you gonna stop my pocket money?".  
"Huh? Oh, no. You'll have to stop it yourself now".  
"What?".  
"You're independent, Alfred."  
"But...But I lost! I had to be carried away...".  
"No, I...I surrendered".  
"But you won" Alfred whispered, wincing a little as he sat up in the bed, "you...you shot me, and...won" he whispered, turning his face away.  
Arthur dropped his head and closed his eyes. "I surrendered. You won. You're an independent nation now, don't try and tell me this isn't what you wanted".  
Alfred turned towards Arthur, looked into the older man's eyes...He could see there was pain there, and hurt. "I...I don't know what to say" he whispered, biting his lip, "I guess the first thing I'm gonna do is ask you something".  
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Hmmm?" he murmured a little suspiciously, "what is it?".  
"Well, er...Two things" he said, coughing a little, "firstly...Would you like to be my ally?".  
"Oh, er...Yeah, yeah. I guess so" he said, smiling a little. "Thank you".  
"No problem" Alfred said, blushing a little. "And now my er...Second question".  
"Yes?".  
"You...You kissed me" he whispered, blushing and dropping his head again, "when I came to see you, you kissed me...I never knew why. I just assumed it was to make me feel worse".  
"I wasn't that desperate" Arthur joked a little awkwardly, tapping his foot on the floor nervously. "I don't know to be honest, I just...Thought it seemed like a good idea".  
"I good idea?" Alfred chuckled in response, "you did it cus you thought it was a good idea?".  
"Well...Yeah" he said, blushing deeply, "you kissed me back! Don't act all innocent you".  
"Me?" he said, grinning as he stretched his legs underneath the covers. "I'm a good boy, I am innocent".  
"Yeah, whatever you say" England muttered back, although he had a soft smile on his face. "You know what? I think you might have concussion or something if you think you're all sweet and innocent. I'll go, leave you in peace. Maybe call a Doctor" He muttered, more to himself than to Alfred as he stepped towards the door.  
"Arthur?".  
He turned around and smiled a little. "What is it now?".  
"Thank you...For everything. This can't be easy for you, and...And I'm grateful".  
The Brit blushed and quickly turned his head away. "No sweat" he whispered, still with his eyes cast to the floor, "I'm fine...it'll be hard, but I'm certain that you'll pull through. And if you can...Then I'll just have to cope. Goodbye, Alfred" he added finally, before he slipped out of America's room and started towards the docks. Where the whole thing began...


End file.
